


Life Anew

by Vesuvian_American



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Heavy Angst, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 12:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17808260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesuvian_American/pseuds/Vesuvian_American
Summary: The beginning of a short story, about the resurrection of Asra's apprentice Victoria. How will Asra cope? What will Muriel do? Will Victoria ever be the same?





	Life Anew

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope its good! I use an original character thaaaaats basically me. I'm still new to writing so I really hope this will be good. HEAVY ANGST. There may be fairly dark times in this story, but eventual fluff and happiness with each passing chapter. We'll get through this! Again, I hope this comes out good and I hope you all enjoy!

By the time Asra felt it was safe to return to Vesuvia and started the long journey home, I was dead. I was his family, his best friend. We meant everything to each other. The plague destroyed Vesuvia. The plague destroyed us. The plague destroyed me. My life was over. I was dead. 

Something unsettling had festered deep in Asra’s chest. He thought, maybe, it was just the guilt of leaving me behind. During his time at his sanctuary he meddled over our argument, thinking over and over about how he could change things. “Well, Faust, at least we know she’s smart. She won’t get herself sick. She won’t catch the plague. She’s strong. She knows her limits. She’ll draw back when it’s too much. Right?” He thought as his lilac serpent slithered across his chest and gave a small empathetic squeeze. “Safe.” She says, reassuring Asra. “Right, right, what am I thinking. As soon as this blows over, we’ll go back home and make things up the Victoria. She’ll be there waiting for us! I can properly apologize and this nightmare will all be over. Though it’s killing me to be away from her. Never mind that Faust, let’s get some rest.” Little did he know, by the time he settled in for bed that night my ashes were dumped onto the sand. My aura snuffed away from the Earth, my light dimmed, I was gone. More months go by and this disgusting feeling in Asra’s chest gets worse and worse. “I can’t stay away any longer Faust, I know she may be upset but she won’t respond to my letters! I need to know if she’s okay. I’ve been ignoring it for this long but it just doesn’t feel right. I need to know!” Asra exclaims as he packs his satchel to return to Vesuvia. This knowing feeling starts, deep in the darkest trenches of his heart. Almost debilitated from worry, but his sheer willpower moves him to make it back to Vesuvia within three days. 

Tracking through the dark forest to Muriel’s hut, a storm looms over head. “We should catch up with Muriel, Faust. He should know how she is.” His voice is shaky. Fear, anxiety, illness, all mixing and fusing together into one inside of the magician’s gut. What will Muriel say? What does he know? Has he still been checking on me like he asked? “Safe!” Faust says with determination, sensing Asra’s unease. “You’re right. Let’s go.” He cracks a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood. As the hut comes into view, Asra can’t control his pace. He’s full on sprinting to Muriel’s door and wastes no time for manners, he bursts inside, startling the giant from his seat by the fire. 

“Muriel! How is she? Has she been okay? Is she alive?” Asra was in dire need for answers. However, the only answer he gets is silence. Why was Muriel so quiet? Muriel had no words. No words to explain that their best friend had died months ago and he was too afraid to break the news to Asra with words. A single tear slides down the hermit’s torn scarred face. Muriel’s face contorts in agony, he shouldered all of this pain alone and now he had to see it all hit Asra all at once. 

“No..no. No, no.” Asra backed away from his childhood friend in disbelief. Shaking his head, he knees tremble beneath him. He bumps into the quaint table that was stationed in the middle of the small room, shaking a cup from its surface and it went crashing to the floor. One hand lands hard on the tabletop to stabilize himself, but it’s not enough. Asra falls to his knees as thick bitter tears leave his eyes, blinding him. Faust slithers off his shoulders and curls into a pile on his lap as Asra weeps loudly. The weight of Asra’s pain is too much for Muriel. He too drops to the ground and is silently crying, holding his face in one large hand. Inanna lays next to him, she’s been his rock this whole time. Asra and Muriel cry together like this for what felt like hours that night. A mix of anger, disgust, and anguish twists the inside of Asra’s gut. With what little strength he has, he reaches his magic out for the shop. Nothing is left. The last few echoes of my magic are leaving the shop, headed towards the Lazaret. Now he’s sure. I’m gone. I’ve been gone for months. At this dark realization, Asra lashes out at Muriel. 

“How dare you! You knew how much she meant to me and you couldn’t tell me she was sick? Why didn’t you tell me?” He yells, slamming a hand hard on the floor beneath him. Muriel flinches at the sudden sound. “I- It was too late. By the time I saw her.. Her eyes.” Muriel choked on the last words. It was so hard to speak; a ball of pain lies in his throat from trying to swallow his sorrow. Asra knew what he meant. The red sclera, the tell-tale sign of the plague. But still, he thinks, “it wasn’t too late Muriel! Maybe I could have saved her, maybe I could have helped her! What did you do to stop this?” He asks with a harsh tone, almost blaming Muriel for my death. The next words that leave Muriel’s mouth slap Asra right across the face. “She told me to stay away. She told me not to help her. She-” his voice is raised. A bit of anger licks at his words. “She told me not to tell you, she knew you’d come back and get too close. You’d die too!” Muriel’s hand hovers over his mouth as if even now, he’s not allowed to tell. Asra rushes out of the hut to release the pain in his chest. He pukes, and falls to his knees once more. Muriel, left alone in the hut with Inanna and Faust only hear his screams of agony as Asra continues to cry alone. “Victoria..” Muriel whispers my name. He whispers in a way like I can still hear him asking me for guidance. “Victoria!” Asra screams outside like his voice alone and bring me back to life. The rest of the night is spent wallowing in pain, drowning in the pain together. 

Asra passed out on the ground outside under a tree. Muriel slept on the floor. Both awake with puffy irritated eyes from the constant tears. When Asra enters the hut, Muriel doesn’t dare move, the look on Asra’s face keeps him still. Then, Asra’s features soften. “I’m sorry Muriel. None of this is your fault, I know. She asked you not to tell me, so I understand. I can’t be upset with you. Alone you mourned here while I ran away. I left both of you and that was my mistake. I have to make it right.” Asra releases the words in one strained breath, voice hoarse from his screams the night before. “Asra, I-” Asra raises a hand, cutting Muriel off before he can make his point. “Please.. Just help me get her back.” Muriel’s brows knit together in confusion as he rises to his feet, the wood floor groaning beneath the shift in weight. “.. Get her back? Asra, she’s-” Again, his words fall of deaf ears, Asra isn’t here to listen, he’s here to speak. “No. She won’t be any longer. I won’t let her life end like this. She won’t just live in my memories. I know a way. You’ll help me, right?” Asra looks to Muriel with stern pleading eyes. Muriel takes the opportunity to speak. “Asra. I- What's your plan?” He asks, voice weak and pained. Asra turns his back to Muriel, and hand toying with his own ivory curls. 

“I’ll make a deal with The Fool.” Asra says in his most monotone voice. Before Muriel can protest, Asra shoots him a dark glare. “Don’t try and stop me. Whatever way, she will live again. Either you’ll be there to help me, or not. But please, do help me. She needed us, she needed me and I ran. I can’t let her down again Muriel. I, I just can’t you know this.” A tear leaves Asra’s eyes, and he snaps them shut. He raises a fist up to the side of his own face, and just as soon as it was formed, he slowly uncurls his tan fingers. “Please, Muriel..I don’t want to be alone.” He chokes up the words. Muriel places a calloused hand on Asra’s shoulder, as gently as he can. “I don’t want to be alone either.” With that, Asra and Muriel ride a boat to the Lazaret to recover the remains. He digs until his knuckles bleed. Asra won’t allow Muriel to help, he needed to do this alone. If he hadn’t had left, I wouldn’t be left like this, he thought, dark piles of ash and bone. It was his task alone to retrieve what was left of me. It took time to prepare, the right circumstances had to be underway. The day came, the ritual was done at Muriel’s hut. Slowly, my being began to coalesce and materialize. Tears leave the men’s eyes and weak smiles start to appear on their faces. My first memory, hearing sniffles and the quiet cries of people surrounding me. The noise is far too loud for my sensitive hearing though naturally, they are as quiet as a mouse to normal people. My eyes open wide with a flash and dart to the two faces peering down at me. 

“Victo-” The white-haired individual chokes between tears but then his face sours, and a look of pure horror and concern washes over him, as well as the other man looking to me. My eyes are bloodshot and red rivulets leak from my tear ducts. An unnatural raspy shriek rips out of my mouth, a blood curdling scream of pain. Where am I? Who am I? Everything hurts? Who are these people? I don’t remember anything. All I know to do is to scream, words wont form. I don’t know how to speak. I’m still screaming through all of this thought. The larger of the two backs away fast, clutching his chest and bumping into things as he scurries to a corner far away from me. His eyes never leave me though, the white-haired person holds me close and cries loudly. His touch hurts my tender skin. I feel frail, my ribs strain under the pressure. I continue to scream until we all can’t take any more pain. My throat aches as I tire myself out, my voice is lost again, the large man is crouched in the dark corner trembling, eyes still wide with horror. The room is quiet except for the quick ragged breathing of the husky man in the corner, and the sobs of the boy holding me. Still the red tears leave my eyes, they won’t stop. The pain won’t stop. I can’t speak. I can’t move. I wince as someone finally speaks, the sound makes my ears ache. “Muriel, please please, can you help me take her to the bed?” The man in the corner, slowly, shakily, rises to his feet and inches toward me. He takes me into his embrace, he’s gentle with me, afraid I may break underneath his touch. Right now, it feels like I might. I’m lifted and carried across the room. My head is swimming at the movement and I’m left nauseous as I’m lowered onto a plush bed covered in furs. Then my vision starts to fade black, the last thing I see are the two men holding each other and looking at me with sad, weary eyes. The last thing I hear. 

“I’m so so sorry..”


End file.
